We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes
by Gairi
Summary: When a young Breton finds out she's actually one of two living Dragonborn, she's distraught. Nobody wants to hear they're not special anymore. Soon, however, another calling pulls at her: the Dark Brotherhood. As a Dovahkiin, the Listener, and the object of a lunatic's overbearing affections, there's nothing stopping her from going mad as well.
1. The Illusion of Innocence

**Notice: **There's an author's note at the end of this chapter which should be read by all. If you're a returning reader and wondering why I'm posting an old chapter, please take a look at the A.N. at the bottom of this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Elder Scrolls series, and I am making no profit from this work. All of the characters, plot details, locations, and canon dialogue belong to Bethesda, not me. The Dragonborn belongs to Bethesda as well, but the characters of Camille Rayne and Sidri Nighthollow (brief mentions only) are mine.

* * *

"Those Imperials just keep throwing themselves at Stormcloak blades." Gripes a young woman in the tavern in which I currently sit. "They would be better off just surrendering."

"Mm." I reply, wishing she would go away.

"What do you think about it?" The woman persists.

_Of course, she had to ask my opinion_. "I've heard of a similar situation in Hammerfell." I respond quickly. "The Aldmeri Dominion seems to be losing friends rather quickly."

"Well, I know I'm no friend of theirs." The barmaid says. "I should get back to work. I'll be back with your drink soon."

I give her a polite smile, but subtly roll my eyes when she leaves. "The same drink she said she'd get me an hour ago." I mutter down at the table. A few moments later, she does actually return, and she brings with her a glass of sweet red wine. I thank her and finally sink into a happy realm of relaxation. That is, until someone else speaks to me.

_I swear, if one more racist Nord says something about my height…_

"Hey dere." Says a large man as he hovers over my table. He mispronounces every _th._

I forge an affable smile, masking my urge to impale him with my dinner fork. "Evening."

"What's someone like you doing in a place like dis?" The man asks, his meager attempts at flirtation failing miserably.

"I believe this is a public tavern." I snip.

He sits down without asking me for an invitation. "Sure it is. But you're too pretty for here."

How charmingly eloquent. "Well, I've heard the only other place to get a decent meal in town is in the Gray Quarter." I remark. I almost add, _"Where would you have me go?"_ but I stop myself quickly due to the probability of his answer being crude.

"You could come back to my place." He suggests eagerly. "It's just a little hole in the wall, but I could make you some dinner. And I have plenty of mead."

"I can tell that you are a _very_ nice person," I state, layering my words with sweetness and smiles, "but I've already had my supper, and I have an unfortunate dislike for Nordic mead."

The man seems very taken aback. "Well, den fine!" He shouts, standing up angrily. "Dere are plenty of odder women who'll appreciate me!"

"I'm sure." I smirk as he storms away. I sigh lightly, hoping nobody else bothers me as I finish my wine and exit the inn.

I pull my velvet traveling cloak around me tightly as the bitter wind pulls at my hair. I've been in Skyrim for a while now, after leaving High Rock due to a misunderstanding with a few politicians. I don't think I'll be staying in Windhelm for any length of time, though. When I came here, I wanted an easier life, one spent roaming the gorgeous landscapes and climbing the mountains. I'm not going back to Cyrodiil. I didn't want to go there in the first place, and I ran the first chance I got, never looking back.

Unfortunately for me, life in Skyrim has been anything but a vacation. I was wrongfully arrested and forced into all this business with dragons. Apparently, I'm not only _the_ Dragonborn of Nordic legend; I'm one of _two_ Dragonborn of Nordic legend. The other is a Bosmer called Sidri - an odd woman who doesn't seem to like me very much. She and I are to meet in some old ruin to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller in about a week. I've been trying to relax until then. I came here to Windhelm and she went to Riften, I believe.

As I walk about the streets, I overhear a little boy speaking to a woman. I catch the words "Black Sacrament" and immediately drop into a crouch. Hurrying behind a low wall, I listen to the rest of the conversation.

"…trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?" Asks the little boy eagerly.

"Oh, Grimvar…" The woman sighs. I can almost hear her shaking her head. "Always with the nonsense. No, no. Of course not. Those are just tales…"

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play." The little boy retorts. I peek around the corner just in time to see him point at a nearby house. "He lives right there. I'm going to knock on his door."

The woman hurriedly places her hands in front of the boy. "No, child! Wait! That boy, that house… they're cursed!"

"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it! He's trying to have somebody killed." The child says triumphantly.

"Alright. I won't deny it, child." The woman admits. "What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin. Now enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need." The little boy hangs his head and walks away with the woman. I look around, then back at the house. It's a sizable place. This Aventus Aretino is, I assume, another child. I wonder what he could want the Dark Brotherhood for… and why no one else is in the house with him.

My curiosity overpowers me. I creep over to the house and deftly pick the lock on the door. It creaks open, completely spoiling the advantage of surprise. Sighing in annoyance, I stand up from my crouch and walk tentatively up the stairs. I can make out faint chanting, words I am all too familiar with.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

I whisper the words in my head. I've said them so many times that I have them memorized. No doubt the child has his effigy of bones and flesh laid out before him, a dagger coated with nightshade in his hands. The assassins have probably already heard his plea; they must be coming. And what will they find in the house? A young child, misguided and foolish? A mysterious Breton, stealing their contract?

The chanting stops. The boy must have heard me. Footsteps patter out into the room and a child, not yet into his teenage years, greets me. "Finally!" He cries excitedly. "My prayers have been answered!"

"Are you… all right?" I inquire hesitantly, taking in the sight of the candlelit bones and blood in the room behind him.

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it!" Aventus cheers, ignoring my question. "I did the Black Sacrament, over and over, with the body and the… the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

I close my eyes, recalling a bitter memory I haven't thought about in a very long time.

"You don't have to say anything." Aventus assures me. "There's no need. I know who you are. And now that you're here, you can accept my contract!"

"Contract?" I repeat. _The boy actually thinks I'm going to kill someone for him, _I think to myself in amazement. _Not like I won't…_

"My mother… sh-she died." Aventus says sorrowfully. "I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall." His sad frown morphs into a sneer. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind! She's terrible. To all of us!" He pauses, letting his anger cool a bit. "So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. And now you're here, and you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

"You are certain this is what you want, child?" I ask quietly.

"Yes!" He nods vigorously. "But please hurry. As much as I hated it in Honorhall, I really miss my friends there."

I look away from his eager eyes and around the house. The candles encircling the effigy of Grelod the Kind are burning out, one by one, drips of wax pooling around them. They will be difficult to pry off of the floor, I think. The main room is a mess, with miscellaneous items strewn about the floor and old foodstuffs rotting away. It already has begun to smell.

I take my leave of the house and decide to take a carriage to Riften. The boy shouldn't be living in that empty house, but neither should he be returned to a woman who will abuse him so terribly. I will be glad to get out of this chilly weather, certainly.

I hire the cart to take me to Riften and sit back into the bench. It will be a long ride, but better than walking in a snowstorm like this. The cabman doesn't talk much, leaving me alone to remember the last time I dealt with the Dark Brotherhood. It was the 28th of Rain's Hand, Fourth Era 187. I still remember that day, the day the assassin came to me.

_I look down at the bruises on my skin. They are fading now. It's been over a week since the Speaker came to me. He told me Atticus would soon be dead, but he is the Arena Grand Champion. I fear he has killed the assassin, and is coming for me. It has been far too long._

_I light the candles in the circle, and pray to the Night Mother that my husband is dead. It wasn't in the book, to pray after one has been contacted. But I do it anyway. All I want is for him to die. Then I can be free._

_I hear footsteps outside. "Atticus?" I breathe as the lock on the door clicks open._

_A figure steps through, clad all in black. "Lady Reverentus." A male voice says, his words pinpricks of sound in the room._

_I gasp, unknowing what to say. "Come now." The figure steps into the candlelight. "I am in the right house, aren't I?" He fits his role perfectly. He is young, with eyes the color of warm gold, hair of soft auburn, and an amused smirk on his face. Handsome, in a dark, unsettling, yet strangely exciting kind of way._

_"I-I think so." I stammer. "Y-you're from the… the Dark Brotherhood?"_

_"You were expecting the Thieves Guild?" He quips with a breathless chuckle, coming ever closer to me. He's much taller than I am. An Imperial, no doubt. "You are the one I was sent to find. I was expecting…" He trails off._

_"S-someone taller?" I ask hesitantly. I am unsure if I should play along with him. He laughs, a chilling sound in the darkness as my candles slowly begin to flicker out. "Hardly. I thought you'd be older. Weaker. The typical battered housewife."_

_I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat._

_"But you're not." The assassin continues. "You're still young and beautiful." He gives me a sickly sweet smile. It makes me shiver, but I think I like it. Why does this darkness excite me?_

_"Atticus is dead." I whisper, more for my own understanding._

_"He's fought his last match." The assassin replies._

_My breath becomes unsteady. I look away from him and down at my melting candles._

_"The Speaker told me I should give you the news myself." The assassin continues, stepping closer to me. "He sent me to take care of you."_

_"Wh-what?" My eyes dart back up to the man. In the Dark Brotherhood, "taking care of" usually means "silencing permanently"._

_"I'm to help you escape from the city." The assassin responds casually. "It will cost you more, however."_

_"I didn't ask for—" I begin to protest._

_"Shh." He presses two fingers to my lips. His gloves smell of blood and steel. It is a… curiously enticing thing. "You shouldn't argue with the man who just killed your husband." He smirks._

_"I can pay." I announce, my voice not rising above a whisper._

_"Of course you can." He says, laughing again. "You have an Arena Champion's fortune to do with as you please."_

_The few lit candles are snuffed out and the assassin leads me out. I gather a few things and give the assassin the stash of gold that I've squirreled away. The last thing I grab is the book. A Kiss, Sweet Mother. I want to keep it in case I need it again… and as a reminder._

_Once we're outside, I shiver. The night seems even colder than usual. The assassin looks at me for a moment before wrapping his cloak around my shoulders. "Consider it a gift." He remarks._

_He leads me out to the stables where a horse is waiting, and instructs me to stay away from the city for a while. __"Go somewhere nice," he says, "go back to High Rock." He smirks and pulls his mask up over his face before disappearing into the night. I follow his silhouette as long as I can, but when I blink, he is lost._

_But now Atticus is dead, and I am free. Maybe I will go to High Rock…_

A light breeze sweeps my face and I open my eyes. I swear I can hear a voice on the wind, but I can't quite make out the words…

* * *

"All right, here we are. Riften." The coachman informs me.

I hop down from the carriage and pay the man a few Septims. "Be careful." He wishes me.

I nod and walk over to the city gate.

"Hold there!" The guard holds up his hand. "Before I let you into Riften, you'll have to pay the visitor's tax."

"What is it for?" I inquire skeptically.

"For… the privilege of entering the city. What does it matter?" The guard barks.

"This is obviously a shakedown." I state.

The guard sighs and looks around. "Damn it." He grumbles. "They need to post someone else out here next time…" He walks over to the gate and pushes it open, glaring at me as I walk through.

Then I finally get a glimpse of Riften. It's similar to Whiterun, but I see more market stands and plenty of people bustling about. I can hear two people arguing about the Thieves' Guild, but I pay no attention.

Someone stops me before I get very far. "I don't know you." Says a man with a deep, throaty voice.

"I don't recall addressing you." I retort before I can catch my own tongue.

"You in Riften lookin' for trouble?" The man demands.

"I just thought I would take a look at the scenery." I quip sarcastically.

"Oh yeah?" The man raises his head. He seems to have no sense of humor at all. "Well I've got news for ya: ain't nothin' to see. Last thing the Black-Briars' need is some stranger stickin' their nose where it don't belong."

I turn away from the man and start off toward the market square. I'm only here to kill some old shrew, not involve myself in more politics.

"You can pretend not to hear me all you want," the man calls after me, "but you'd better stay out of the Black-Briars' business."

I ignore him, instead walking into the market square. Lots of people are there, selling their wares. Armorers, jewelers, and a man claiming to sell miracle cures. He keeps looking at me, and he has an arrogant air about him. He's obviously lying about his "Falmer Blood Elixir", but some still pay attention to it. I avert my gaze and walk through town until I see a building with lettering above the door that reads "Honorhall Orphanage".

This is the place. I step inside and look around. There are a few children standing in a line with their heads bowed. An old woman is yelling at them ruthlessly, and I know immediately why Aventus wants her dead.

"Anyone who shirks their duties will get an extra beating! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Grelod." The children murmur in a depressed chorus.

"And I will hear no more talk of adoptions!" The old woman shrieked. "No one wants you! Nobody needs you! That is why you are here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown out into that wide, miserable world. Now what do you say?"

"We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness." The children drone.

My veins pulse under my skin. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my dagger and walk toward her. I think this is one murder I can commit with witnesses present. "Hello, Grelod." I say icily. "You know, I don't like people who make victims of the helpless." She opens her mouth to protest, but as I sink my blade into her stomach and twist it, all that emerges is blood. It spills down her dress, and I can feel a sick warmth in the pit of my stomach.

So fulfilling… I remember why I like this.

To my amazement, the children cheer. One of them runs to me and wraps his arms around my legs. "Aventus did it!" They all cry happily. The one hugging me says, "We love you, Dark Brotherhood!" and lets go, jumping for joy with the rest of his friends.

"Kill one person, and you can solve so many problems." One girl muses lowly after glancing at me.

I smile to myself and quietly leave the orphanage. I draw my hood up over my face and quickly exit the town.

After deciding to walk instead of taking another carriage, I am on my way back to Windhelm, albeit with a surprisingly uneasy feeling in my stomach. I've never killed someone with witnesses like that. It's always been in the dark, away from prying eyes. But those children… somebody needed to do something. That murder was almost justified.

I'm no vigilante. I kill people because I want to, because they hurt me. Because I have that kind of darkness inside of me. But I don't save people. At least, not on purpose.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm making this chapter my first official chapter of the new "Little Mad." I'm rewriting the story and removing Cicero's perspective, which played a role in later chapters. If you're new to this, don't worry. If you've been following it, make sure to skim over my next few chapters, even though they'll be mostly the same._

_For reviewing the old version, I'd like to thank K0H and a Guest. I used the idea of thanking latest reviewers from J. APPLEGATE, who also wrote an Elder Scrolls story called The Nerevarine's Return. I highly recommend that fic. It's well-written, dramatic, and has a huge cast of interesting and compelling characters who travel through Skyrim. Go read that, seriously._


	2. Welcome to the Family

p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"A small part of me was expecting Windhelm to be eerily quiet. But it's the same noisy city as it ever was. I walk up to Aventus Aretino's house and open the door, glancing around. I walk up the stairs and Aventus runs out at the sound of my footsteps./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Well? Grelod the Kind, is she… you know…?" He asks eagerly./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Yes, child." I respond./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""A-ha! I knew you could do it!" Aventus cheers. "I knew the Dark Brotherhood would save me! Here, just like I promised." He hands me a silver plate. "This should fetch you a nice price. And thank you! Thank you again!" He runs down the stairs and out the door, letting it slam behind him./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I decide not to stay in Windhelm and to travel out to Markarth. It is supposed to be warmer there, with very little snow and plenty of mountains to climb. But there are rumors of an uprising against the Nords. I dislike them and their racist, bull-headed ways, but I wouldn't use that as an excuse to kill them all. There are much better reasons to murder people./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"Maybe I'll go back to Whiterun. It was nice enough there, living in the house that was given to Sidri and I by the Jarl. People respect us for our victory over the dragon, and despite my unwillingness to trust the Greybeards, they may be right. Whether we… emI/em… like it or not, we are connected. We're both Dragonborn, and whatever's going on, it's up to us to stop it./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"To avoid facing my supposed destiny for another little while, I rent a room down in the Grey Quarter for the night so the Nords don't bother me. In the morning, I set off on foot for Whiterun. I take the west road to observe the scenery, and smile at the wide beauty of Skyrim. I came here for this, not politics or dragons. But at least I still have these quiet days to occupy me./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"Just after passing a small settlement around a lumber mill, a courier jogs over to me./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Hey, are you Camille Rayne?" He asks./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Yes…" I reply hesitantly. "You were looking for me?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Yeah, got this note." He responds, pulling a small piece of paper from his satchel. "Don't know what it's for."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Who is it from?" I question suspiciously. The only person who would contact me wouldn't dare do it by courier, and I have no other friends or family who care enough to send anything./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Not sure who." The courier shrugs. "Creepy fella, black robe. Couldn't see his face. Paid me a pretty sum to get this into your hands, though. Looks like that's it. Got to go." He hands me the paper and starts of toward Windhelm./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I don't like this. I open the folded paper to see a handprint in black ink along with two words written in a careful hand. My breath hitches and my heart leaps into my throat./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"em"We know."/em/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I knew it. I knew they would come for me, and they're going to kill me for taking their contract./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I quickly walk to Whiterun and spend the night in the house. I sit on the bed for hours, startling at the slightest sounds. Eventually, I fall asleep, and am wracked with vicious, terrifying dreams./p  
hr style="color: #000000; font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"The room spins and blurs as my head aches. I sit up and try to look around. Movement catches my eye and I see a woman sitting casually atop a shelf, her leg dangling over the edge. She is dressed in form-fitting black and red armor with a mask that covers her nose and mouth. Only her ghostly grey eyes are visible./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Sleep well?" She asks./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"My breath freezes in my throat. emThe Brotherhood… /em"Where am I?" I demand./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Relax. You're warm, dry… and still very much alive." The woman says in a soothing tone. "That's more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""You know about that?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Half of Skyrim knows." She replies with what I assume to be a smirk. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I scowl up at her. My initial fear is gone, replaced by annoyance and anger./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing you." The woman clarifies quickly. "It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot. But there is a slight… mm, problem."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I keep my tongue still, unsure why she would tell me all this only to end my life afterward./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""You see, the Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates." She tells me. "Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole. A kill you must repay."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""You want me to kill someone else?" I question hesitantly. "Who?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Well now." The woman chuckles darkly. "Funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've collected them from — well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I turn and see three people, kneeling on the bloodstained floor, each wearing black execution hoods. "You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But… which one?" The woman continues. "Go on. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe… and admire."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I stare at the victims. Two men and a woman. One of them, a Khajiit./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Am I to take your silence as acceptance?" The woman asks. "Then you know where we stand. Make your kill, and we're square. Repayment of your debt is but a discreet knife thrust away."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I walk over to the first man I see, the human. "I-I can hear you talking out there!" He whimpers. "Please, let me go! I've done nothing to you."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Who are you?" I ask him, my tone soft./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""My name is Fultheim." He replies shakily. "I'm a soldier. Well, a-a mercenary, really. You know, a sell-sword. But that's all! I'm a nobody, really! So can't you just let me go?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Shh, it's all right." I whisper soothingly, placing my hand on his shoulder. "You're a very, very sad man." I draw a small, thin dagger and plunge it into his chest, blood flowing over my hands and shrouding them in warmth./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I walk up the line to the Khajiit and tilt my head. He says something charmingly, but I am too preoccupied with my dizzy feeling to care. I drag my dagger across his neck and marvel at the color of his blood. Such a dark shade…/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"Only the woman remains. I turn to her and press my lips together. I snatch the black hood from her face and stare into her eyes. "Look at you; you're just an old woman. Why would anyone want to kill you?" I smirk and grimly, the same way the assassin in Cyrodiil had done to me. "Well, I know how deceiving looks can be. You're probably the worst of the lot, you old hag." I take her face in my hand and whisper, "I'm going to enjoy this," before holding out my palms and allowing magefire to engulf her./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I turn back to the hooded woman. "Well, well." She smirks. "Aren't we the overachiever? Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""You told me to kill, and I killed." I reply, staring up at her./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Indeed. For you, my friend, seem to understand what's truly important." She responded. "When I give an order to spill blood, you follow it. No questions, no remorse."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""So I can leave?" I ask eagerly. I am quite ready to get out of the tiny shack./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Of course. And you've repaid your debt in full." The woman throws a small key at me. "Here is the key to the shack. But why stop there? I say we take our relationship to the next level. I would like to officially extend an invitation for you to join our family. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, you'll find our Sanctuary. When questioned by the Black Door, answer thusly: 'Silence, my Brother' and you'll be welcomed in. I'll see you at home." She smiles as I turn to leave./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I suppose it was bound to happen sometime… ever since I had Atticus killed. Maybe this will be good for me, having an outlet for my murderous intentions./p  
hr style="color: #000000; font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"***strong One month later /strong***/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"strongIt/strong used to be a nice day. The weather was pleasant—warm for this time of year, and breezy too. I lowered the hood of my cloak and let the wind tangle up my hair. Brushing it out later will relax me even more./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"But then I see the fool./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"em"Aagh!"/em He yells at the cracked and splintered wheel of his wagon. "Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! STUCK!" His hands rest on a wooden box lying in the wagon. "Oh, my mother. My poor mother! Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"He notices me as I stare at him with a raised eyebrow, and he gasps. "You! You would help?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"emI don't want to/em. "I have somewhere to be—"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Poor Cicero is stuck!" He interupts me, seemingly uncaring that I was about to refuse. "Can't you see?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I stare at him. Judging by his mannerisms, he's either very childish or very disturbed. The look in his eyes has me convinced of the latter./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""I was transporting my dear, sweet mother." He explains in the same shrill tone of voice. "Well, not emher/em. Her corpse! She quite dead." He seems to be waiting for me to laugh./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I merely blink./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""I'm taking Mother to a new home. A new crypt. But emaaaghh/emem!/em Wagon wheel!em Damnedest/em wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I suck my teeth impatiently. "That would certainly hinder one's day. Now I was—"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Oh! But surely the kindly stranger can help!" He smiles at me, sickeningly sweet. "Go to the farm—the Loreius farm! Talk to Loreius; he has tools! He can help me! But he won't, he refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"He has a curious—and annoying—method of speech. No doubt a side effect of the madness I can see in his eyes./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I sigh loudly, making it obvious to him that I'm reluctant to assist. "Very well. I shall see what I can do." I pause, then glare at him and add, "I'm expecting good payment for my trouble."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Oh, thank you, thank you!" He squeals, clapping his gloved hands and dancing around his wagon. "You beautiful soul, you! My mother would certainly thank you herself… if she could!" He cackles and continues to dance./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I retreat up the road, looking back a little too often to see what he's doing. emBeautiful soul? He's definitely mad./em/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"The farm up ahead seems to have thriving crops. I see a man and a woman working, the former of which I assume to be Loreius. I approach him and he looks up. "Oh, for the love of Mara. What now?" He snaps at me./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""That man on the road—he really needs your help with his wagon." I say, looking back at the jester again./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""That Cicero feller? Hmph. Tell me something I don't know," Loreius shakes his head. "Crazy fool's already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""He offered to pay me," I remark, "surely he'll pay you."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Pay me?" Loreius repeats. "You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head! A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""What of it? Would you leave a starving man with not a morsel of food just because of his mannerisms?"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""What? No! It's not just the madness!" He argues. "He's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother, my eye. He could have anything in there! War contraband, weapons, skooma. Ain't no way I'm gettin' involved in any of that."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I'm starting to lose my patience. emIf this isn't resolved soon, I may have to kill someone. /em"He's just a stranger who needs assistance. If it was someone normal, you wouldn't be so reluctant."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""And just who in Mara's name are you anyway, hmm?" Loreius demands. "Come here, telling me my business. And for what? To help a… a… a fool!"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""A fool, indeed." I remark. "But why am I helping him when you will not? He is nothing to me. No one. I've never seen him, met him. He's every bit as foreign to me as you are. And yet I assist, and you give nothing."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Look, I… I…" Finally, he sighs and relents. "You're right, you're right. Feller might be nutters, might not. But I turn him away, what kind of man am I, hmm? Look, um… thanks for your help. And I'm sorry for my un-neighborly reaction. If you see Cicero, you be sure to tell him I'll be down to help soon."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I thank him and walk back down the hill, pausing when I hear the jester muttering to himself./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""My dear mother," he says. "Her new home seems so very far away…"/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"I decide it's time to tell him the news and be on my way. "The farmer agreed to help you." I say as he whirls around to face me./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""Oh, stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic!" He dances around the cart. "But more! Even more! My mother thanks you."/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;""You are welcome." I turn away, but pause as I hear something out of place./p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"The sound in the wind is back again. This time, it's clearer, and I have to stop myself from turning around to find the source of the deep whispering. I close my eyes to try to hear it better, but it still doesn't make any sense./p  
hr style="color: #000000; font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"emA.N.: My second revised chapter! This one is very similar to the old one. I merely removed the second perspective and filled our Camille's lines a little more. She has some more personality now. These chapters may seem a little choppy—at least, they do to me—but please bear with me and please leave a review. They help me immensely./em/p  
p style="font-family: Times; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"em-Gairi/em/p 


	3. Home Sweet Home?

I arrive back in the Sanctuary after about a week of traveling. I am tired from all this foolish business with the Graybeards and the Blades and am quite happy to be home, where things are less complicated.

Astrid isn't standing in her usual place by the map, and I hear noises from the main room.

"But the Night Mother is mother to all!" Cries a shrill voice. "It is _her_ voice we follow! _Her_ will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely… punishment?"

I enter the room hesitantly to see my Family gathered around a familiar little jester. Transporting his mother, he claimed… _what is in that box?_

"Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets 'punished'." Growls the wolf.

"Oh, be quiet, you great lumbering lapdog." The old mage scowls. "The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil." He turns toward the fool. "Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition."

"Oh, what a _kind_ and _wise_ wizard you are!" The fool grins and claps his hands like a child. "Sure to earn our Lady's favor."

"You and the Night Mother are certainly welcome here, Cicero." Astrid declares cordially. "And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood… husband?" She adds, glaring at the wolf subtly.

He huffs and walks away.

"Oh yes, yes, yes!" The fool cheers, starting to do a short little dance. "Thank you, thank you, _thank_ you!"

"But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary." Astrid states pointedly. "My word is law. Are we clear on that point?"

"Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You're the boss." Cicero nods emphatically.

I retreat back into the map room and wait for Astrid to return. She notices me and smiles. "Ah, there you are. I was done talking to that muttering fool anyway. We have business to discuss."

"You have a contact for me?"

"I do indeed." She replies. "You must go to the city of Markarth and speak to the apothecary's assistant. You'll probably find her in the Hag's Cure when the shop is open. The girl's been running her mouth – wants an ex-lover killed. She's apparently performed the Black Sacrament. Her name is Muiri. I need you to talk to her, set up the contract, and carry it out."

_Well, at least she's finally letting me prove myself._ "Anything else?"

"Just do whatever the contact wishes." Astrid answers. "Be professional, represent us well, and get the job done. Since it's your first contract, I'll let you keep whatever Muiri pays. She'll be generous, I'm sure. They always are."

With that, she turns away and walks back to her normal place by the wall.

"Astrid?" I lower the hood of my cloak.

"You have a question?"

"This jester…"

"I know. I don't like his presence here any more than you do, but it's necessary right now." Astrid says.

"I've spoken with him once, in Whiterun Hold." I explain. "His wagon broke, and he asked me to help him convince a farmer to fix it. He did pay me."

"Interesting." Astrid muses. "Then he'll trust you more than any of us. You should speak to him as soon as you can. He might respond better to you than he would to us." She continues. "Just go and see if you can get anything out of him. See what he wants."

"Very well." I walk toward the fool and his face stretches into a grin I didn't even know could fit. "You! Cicero never forgets a face!" He flings his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly. Mad indeed, but if I can stomach it, he may prove useful. "Oh, how wonderful to see you're one of the Family!"

"You're the jester from the road," I note, "transporting his mother."

"Oh, I am! I was! But not just _my_ mother! _Our_ mother, hmm? The Night Mother!" He says, never losing his smile. "Oh, yes! And you helped me! You helped Cicero! You talked to Loreius, got him to fix my wheel! Oh, you may have pleased me, but you have surely pleased the Night Mother. And our mother, she will never forget!"

When I say nothing, he continues. "Ooh, so silent, so menacing." He says lowly. "A true assassin of the Old Ways. Cicero likes you. Oh, Cicero likes you indeed…" He trails off, staring at me diligently. He seems to be studying me for something, but I know not what.

"Why are you staring at me?" I ask, my voice taking an icy tone.

"Oh, Cicero was just thinking." He says quickly. "Thinking of… someone."

After looking him over, I scowl. "You're an Imperial. What brings you to Skyrim?"

"Cicero could ask the same of you. A Breton, here in the icy cold?" He grins again, sickly sweet. "The Night Mother's crypt in Bravil was… desecrated. The Imperial Province is ravaged by strife. Nowhere there is safe, at present." His eyes wander about the floor, carrying a surprisingly haunted look. "So Cicero brought our Lady to her new home. Here! This is the only Sanctuary left in all of Skyrim, you see. Such was my… honor. As Keeper."

Astrid can hear every word we say, stalking about behind me, so I don't think I need to memorize his answers. "So what are the duties of your role?" I inquire, even though I don't really care.

He grins. "Oh, Cicero takes care of our Lady's body. Oils it, preserves it, keeps it safe. Makes sure nobody disrespects our Matron's coffin." He makes a face. "Only the best get _my_ job."

"I'm sure." I respond, inwardly shuddering at the thought. "Tell me about yourself, Brother."

"Me?" His cheeks flush again and he shuffles his feet, as if he's never been asked about himself before. "Oh, Cicero is just Keeper. I… keep!" He giggles. "I take care of our matron, you see. The Night Mother. I keep her clean, and protected, and happy…" he trails off as if thinking about something unpleasant. Then his eyes return to me with a familiarly haunting darkness and he adds, "But I am not the Listener. Oh, no! There is no Listener. Not yet! But some day, some day, _some day,_ I pray that one will come to hear her say… the words." He finishes in a hushed tone, with a hint of that laughter that never seems to leave him.

"Tell me your thoughts on Sithis."

"Hmm…" He hums thoughtfully, his golden eyes wandering before eventually settling on mine. A dark smile creeps across his face and he takes a deep breath. "That's like telling you about the cold of space, or the terror of midnight. Sithis is all those things. He is… the Void." He finishes in a chilling whisper.

The growl stirs a long-buried memory. I force it aside as his clownish grin returns and he looks at me expectantly. "Have we met?"  
"Of course, of course!" He claps his hands. "Cicero would never ever forget you."

My lungs seize up. _If he's thinking the same thing I am..._

"We met on the road! Did you forget? You helped me with my damnedest wagon wheel!"

My breath returns and I manage to disguise my sigh of relief. "Ah, of course. Silly of me to ask."

"Oh, oh! Shall Cicero have a name to call the lovely Breton by? One as pretty as you, perhaps?" He gives me the biggest smile yet, a charming one at that, and he removes his glove and extends his hand for a proper greeting.

I return the smile, albeit a bit less sincerely. "Flattery won't be necessary." I hold out my hand as well. "You may call me Camille."

"Oh, it does suit you!" He shakes my hand and holds it gingerly. "So elegant and upright. The Fool of Hearts is pleased to make you acquaintance." He gives me a little bow after releasing my fingers.

_Hearts? Of all the suits, that's the one he chose…_ I glance away and subtly brush my fingers against my clothes. "This has been fascinating, but I have a new contract to see to."

His smile shrinks a bit, but then it springs right back again. "Until next time, Camille! Cicero awaits it eagerly!" He replies, turning back to the box and beginning to open it up.

When I turn in my contracts, Nazir congratulates me in his typical, condescending way. Not willing to engage in sarcastic banter with him, I walk to my quiet place: the wooden chair beside Babette's alchemy supplies. She often reminds me of myself when I was young.

I watch Babette's motions as she crushes the petals of a nightshade flower. Her tiny hands look so strange handling such a deadly ingredient. She glances at me expectantly, and I pose her a question. "What do you think about Cicero and the Night Mother?"

She sighs. "Two hundred years ago, I would have lain down my life for the Unholy Matron. But that age has long since passed. Astrid is my matron now." She says. "But the jester… I haven't spoken to him beyond the few moments after he came inside. He seems… unstable."

"He's more than he appears." I remark, slowly kicking my feet back and forth. "But I don't quite know what I think of him yet."

"Well, maybe when you get back from your contract, you can speak with him more." Babette suggests, mixing the nightshade with a nirnroot.

"I'd like to stay now, but I have to leave within the hour. I swear, if I ever got a day to myself, half of Skyrim would fall off the world."

Babette laughs, one of the few times when she sounds truly childlike. "Well, have fun," she instructs, smiling at me. "It isn't worth it if you don't enjoy it."

* * *

_A.N.: Another "new old" chapter. Please don't hesitate to leave me a review or send me a message. I read and reply to all of them, and they help me so much. _

_A huge thank-you to J. APPLEGATE for reviewing since my last update, and pointing out that this chapter was originally posted in HTML code. I swear, this site drives me crazy sometimes. To thank him for helping to get you a readable chapter, go check out his amazing Skyrim fic, "The Nerevarine's Return." I also happen to beta-read it. Chapter 48 and onward are where I've helped out.  
-Gairi_


	4. Revenge, Best Served Cold

It takes a few days to get to Markarth, with stops in Rorikstead and Karthwasten. The locals aren't much to talk about, but I'm glad to see a few more Bretons around. When I enter the city, I remember Astrid telling me that Muiri is supposed to be in the Hag's Cure, the local apothecary. I walk around Markarth for an abnormally long while as I try to find it. When I finally approach the right store, I open the door to see an old woman in black robes and a younger one mixing ingredients with a mortar and pestle.

I approach the younger woman and she frowns. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks with a hint of nervousness in her tone.

"The Dark Brotherhood has come, Muiri." I declare.

"The Dark Brotherh… Oh. Oh!" She gasps and quickly ushers me into the back room. "My goodness, you're really here!"

I give a twitchy smirk. "You were expecting the Thieves Guild?"

"N-no." She stammers. "The Black Sacrament… it actually worked?"

"Obviously. What do you need from us?"

"What I need?" She repeats. "What I need is for Alain Dufont to die! I want him to be hunted down and murdered like the dog he is!"

This continues for a while. She talks and talks… and _talks_. I almost regret asking if there was anything else, but at least I get to kill two people now. After more rambling about blood and misery being wrought upon her old acquaintances, she gives me two vials of poison and tells me that she had been planning to do it herself for a while.

By the look of her, I think contacting us was the right idea.

I pick up the poisons and stow them in my bag before I walk out of the city and flag down the carriage, paying fifty Septims for passage to Windhelm. It's a small price compared to what I'll get for this contract… I hope.

When I arrive in Windhelm, things seem more noisy than usual. I approach the house of the Shatter-Shields and find it locked. They must be out. I walk about Windhelm for a while, perusing the wares of the merchants and attempting to avoid conversation with the locals.

I see Nilsine Shatter-Shield in the market, and I know my time wandering is at its end. She doesn't seem to have noticed me, so I slink into the nearest shadow and trail the young woman slowly. She meanders through the streets, never talking to anyone. She gets back to her house, and I hope that the rest of her family isn't home as I watch her walk inside. She locks the door on her way in.

_That's unfortunate. Now we have to do things the hard way._

After several broken lockpicks, I growl lowly and melt the lock with magic. A less-than-elegant manner of entry, but what's done is done.

I glance around the dark house, and I can hear footsteps above my head. The basket of flowers that Nilsine was carrying sits on the table. I walk upstairs slowly and peek around the top of the stairs. Nilsine is standing by the fire. It looks like she's making herself a glass of mead.

_Perfect! She even has her back turned._

I step into the room and ask if I'm in the right house.

"Who are you?" She questions. "What do you want?"

"You are Nilsine, yes? I was sent to find you." I state evenly. "One of your friends wanted to give you a message."

"Who? What is it?" She asks, still wary of me. "Wait… how did you even get in here? I locked the door…"

"Yes—and you'll need a new lock. I tend to get a little… hmmm… _impatient_." I shrug. "Your old friend, Muiri, wants you to know that she's dreadfully displeased with the way your family has treated her. I suppose this may be a bit _too _much, but... well. Business is business." I summon a spear of ice and throw it at her before she can reply. The force propels her halfway across the room and she crashes into a shelf, the various items that has occupied it crashing to the ground.

I wince. "That'll leave a mark. Shame, too. That shelf was _lovely_."

After making sure the girl's breathed her last, I extinguish the flames and walk out of the house. Just one more to go.

I've moved on to the next target on my list, Alain Dufont. I can see the Dwarven ruin atop a mountain in the distance, and it looks like quite a climb. Luckily for me, I love it. One hand in front of the other, clutching at corners stable enough to hold me, and all I see is the sky above, grey and bleak. It may not seem relaxing, but this is why I came to Skyrim. No assassins, no politics, no dragons. Just me and the mountain.

Think of what could I have been doing without all those nuisances!

Skyrim would be much nicer without the civil war. But if the war wasn't raging, the Empire wouldn't have set up that ambush to capture Ulfric Stormcloak, and I wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire. So then I wouldn't have even been at Helgen, and my head wouldn't have been in the path of that axe. And then I wouldn't have discovered my "grand destiny" and Sidri could have very well done it herself. _Not like I'm helping her much anyway..._

I've just reached a nice flat part in the mountain, so I pull myself up and look around. The ruin is in front of me and I can see the outlines of people walking around it. I draw my bow and aim through the snowfall. I release the arrow, but none of the figures fall. Sidri is far better than me with a bow. I creep a bit closer. The bandits are on edge now, waiting for another arrow. One stands by where the arrow landed, and the other searches around for me.

I draw back the string once more. The wind is picking up, so I aim a bit left of where I was aiming before. I fire, and this time one of the bandits goes down. The other alerts his comrades, and I see my short relationship with this bow is coming to a close. I press myself to the face of the rocks and follow them over toward the ruin, my dagger drawn. The bandits don't seem to have noticed me yet. One makes the mistake of walking away from his fellows; I cut his throat almost instantly and leave his body in the snow. I begin walking up the steps toward the ruin, but one of the bandits sees me. I rise from my crouch and slash at her as the other readies his bow.

This will require some careful timing on my part. The one with the sword isn't my main concern. The archer is just as dangerous, if not more. I dodge a swipe of the woman's blade and jump backwards toward the archer. He fires an arrow at me, which very narrowly misses. It gives me the perfect window to attack, and I manage to drive my dagger into his shoulder. He falls to the ground, taking me with him. I pull the dagger from his shoulder and roll across the floor to escape the other bandit's blade. I successfully evade it and kick her in the back of the knee, causing her to fall. I kill them both quickly and then take a moment to reclaim my breath, the snowy air filling my lungs and cooling me down.

Once I'm inside the ruin, I notice a bandit sleeping on a makeshift blanket of furs. I kill him before he can make a sound. I come to a trap that's spitting fire directly in my path, but I'm too impatient to take the alternate route, so I duck under it while holding a Ward spell around myself.

With some difficulty, I pick the lock on the gate in front of me and it opens to reveal a large room with three men inside of it. There's a pool of oil on the floor—a careless mistake I've seen in many places. I summon more flames. By the time they notice the spell, it's far too late, and the pool of oil ignites in a burst of hot fire.

It's clear from the fading screams that I've managed to kill all three of the bandits. I look around at my handiwork before turning back, casting another Ward as I duck through the trap again. I've done what was asked of me. Unfortunately, now I have to crash a Thalmor party. I don't have enough time to return to Muiri, let alone to tell Astrid that I've completed the contract.

So, it's up to Solitude I go.

* * *

_A.N.: Bit of a shorter chapter this time, but once I get the next one redone, this story is set. I believe I've breathed new life into it now, and my wonderful readers J. APPLEGATE and Sidnika have left reviews for me since my last update. A huge thank you to them, indeed. Please don't hesitate to leave me a review or send me a PM with any questions or comments. And if anyone sees any errors, please, please let me know! The next chapter should be up soon._

_\- Gairi_


	5. Yet Another Destiny

**Opening Notice:** _Along with this one, I have rewritten the first four chapters as part of a project to get myself back into this story. If you're just starting with this chapter, please go back to chapter one and skim it. Read the author's notes there, and if you're feeling inclined, the rest of the updated chapters as well._

* * *

After a great deal of dragon business, I finally return to the Sanctuary. It's always nice to return home, especially when my sister Dovahkiin starts to annoy me... which happens more often than not.

Before I even set my cloak down, Cicero begins to follow me about like a lost puppy, bounding around and asking me repeatedly to tell him the story of the murders. I patiently refuse as I eat my dinner, waiting until he looks like he's about to explode with excitement.

"Tell Cicero! _Please!_ Camille? Millie?" Cicero begs me.

"All right, all right." I finally relent. "But you have to be quiet and still while I tell you. Is that fair?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, _anything_ sounds fair! Just _tell Cicero!"_ He cries.

Just as I open my mouth to begin the tale, Astrid approaches me and clears her throat. "Camille? I need to speak with you… privately." She says without even a hello.

"What's the matter?" I ask, concerned by the urgent tone in her voice.

"I need your assistance with a… personal matter. Come with me." She motions for me to follow her and walks away toward the main room.

Cicero looks positively miserable as I rise from my chair. "But… but Camille was to tell Cicero a story! She was going to _regale_ Cicero with the story of her adventures!"

"Camille can speak with you later, fool. Leave us alone and be quiet." Astrid snaps bitterly.

I really have no alternative, so I follow her up to her bedroom off of the entryway, where she sits down on the bed and sighs.

"Is something wrong?" I inquire, folding my arms.

"It's Cicero." She answers plainly. "Ever since he's arrived, his behavior has been… well, erratic would be an understatement. I do believe he's truly mad."

"His mind is fractured," I state. "That should be no surprise to you."

"It's worse than that." She declares. "He's taken to locking himself in the Night Mother's chamber, and talking. _To_ someone. In hushed, but frantic tones." She stands up and paces about. "Who is he speaking with? What are they planning? I fear treachery."

I shake my head and sigh quietly. "Astrid, you are _paranoid_. Cicero is the Keeper. His insanity has no limits; he speaks to the corpse out of delusion, nothing more."

"Maybe so," she replies, "but healthy paranoia has saved this Sanctuary before, and my gut's telling me that demented little fool is up to something."

"What is the point of telling me this?" I question coldly. "If you have a point, bring me to it."

"Dear Sister, I need you to steal into that chamber, and eavesdrop on their meeting. It'll be no use clinging to the shadows." Astrid begins to pace around the room anxiously. "They'll see you for sure. No, you need a hiding place. Somewhere they'd never think to look…" She pauses, her back to me. "…Like inside the Night Mother's coffin."

"Oh, of _course_." I drawl sarcastically. "It's perfect."

"They'll never think to check it. Who in their right mind would hide inside?"

"Who, indeed. There is a reason, I presume, you're sending _me _to do this? You are the one with suspicions, yes?"

"I have other matters to attend to." Astrid comments snappishly. "Now go. Before they meet. And report back to me with whatever you learn." She walks out of the bedroom and stands by her usual place at the stone table with the map.

I sigh again, less subtly this time, and make my way to the room where the coffin has been placed. It's been turned into a chapel of sorts, but I've only passed through it a few times before.

I shake some doubts from my mind as I pick the small, simple lock on the Night Mother's coffin. I press myself into the tiny, cramped space and shut the door behind me. It smells not of death, but of oils and a bit of incense. Is that sea salt I detect? Was the journey to Skyrim taken by ship and not carriage? That would explain why I met Cicero on the road from the north... but why would he travel so far by sea when he could have simply crossed the border from Cyrodiil?

Footsteps, the opening and closing of a door, quiet humming. Cicero is here, and not a moment too soon. I still myself and quiet my breathing, but the beating of my heart is so loud, I'm almost afraid of him hearing it.

_Am I truly concerned for this fool now?_

"Are we alone?" His laughter filters in through the coffin walls, muffled and muted. "Yes… yes… alone. Sweet solitude! No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan! The others… I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it! The wizard, Festus Krex… perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child! And Camille…"

The only ones he hasn't mentioned are Arnbjorn and Gabriella. Arnbjorn is too stupid to sneak around like this, and too loyal to Astrid to work against her. But Gabriella is quiet, peculiarly so at times, but would she betray us? Is that even what Cicero is planning at all?

"Sweet, sweet Camille… with a voice so warm, to melt the ice in her eyes!" Cicero continues. "So pretty… so unreachable…"

What little patience I have is wearing thin. _Shut up about me and say your accomplice's name, fool!_

"What about you?" Cicero asks. "Have you… spoken to anyone? No… No, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing, and the saying!" He raises his voice, growing angry. "And what do you do, hmm? _Nothing!" _He sighs, and returns to muttering. "Not… not that I'm angry. No, of course not. Cicero understands. Cicero… always understands. And obeys. You will speak when you're ready, won't you? Won't you? Sweet Night Mother…"

Another voice filters through my mind, one that isn't Cicero's or my own. It's all I can do to stifle a gasp_. "Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero." _The voice says. _"Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener."_

"Oh, but how can I defend you?" Cicero begs of the Night Mother. "How can I exert your will if you will not speak? To anyone!"

_"__Oh, but I will speak."_ The voice tells me. _"I will speak to you. For you are the one."_

I clasp my hands over my mouth to stifle a gasp. She cannot—if only by rules of logic—be speaking to me. She is dead. So very dead. Her spirit speaks to the Listener, obviously... and she's speaking to me. The Night Mother... she's naming _me_ the Listener.

As if reading my mind, the voice returns_. "Yes, you. You, who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task: journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre."_

"Poor Cicero has failed you." The jester laments. "Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet Mother. I've tried, so very hard. But I just can't find the Listener!"

_"__Tell Cicero the time has come."_ The voice instructs me. _"Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: 'Darkness rises when silence dies.'"_

Then the door opens and light pours in, obstructing my vision. I tumble out of the coffin and come face to face with Cicero, who goes from startled to enraged in a matter of seconds. He drags me up and shoves me back. "What? What treachery! Defiler!" He shouts. "Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!" Cicero commands.

"I am no traitor, you fool!" I growl. "The Night Mother spoke to me!"

His glare softens for a moment. "She… spoke to you?" He asks, before narrowing his eyes and forcing me against the wall. "More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!"

I clasp his hands as they tighten around my throat. "No, you—" I cough, my voice deserting me as quickly as my breath.

"There is… no…_ Listener!" _He howls. "Oh, Camille. I trusted you. I trusted you with all my heart, and you _shattered_ it! "

"But she said—"

"No more words!" Cicero screeches. He's almost to the point of tears. "No more lies! Cicero is going to stain the floor with your blood for what you've done!" He draws his ebony dagger and presses it to my throat, and I can feel the blade just barely pierce my skin. "Your beautiful… red… blood…"

The whispering voice hisses words in my mind and I scream them out.

_"__Darkness rises when silence dies!"_

Cicero lets go of me and I gasp, the sudden rush of air stinging my lungs. "She… she said that?" He questions in shock. "She said those words… to you? 'Darkness rises when silence dies'?"

I nod, trying to catch my breath.

"But those are the words. The Binding Words." Cicero says slowly. "Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…"

I stand up hesitantly. "What does it mean?"

"It means… it is true!" He cries, sweeping me up into his arms and whirling me around. "She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you!" He cackles, placing me back down and throwing his arms up to the sky. "All hail the Listener!"

Cicero's grin melts and he approaches me grimly. He cradles my face in his hands and begins to whisper frantically. "Oh, no-no-no-no-no. Cicero hurt you, sweet Camille. Cicero hurt the Listener! Cicero didn't know… Camille, Camille… Cicero is so—"

"Don't mention it." I mutter, massaging my neck. "Just be sure not to do it again."

The door is suddenly flung open and Astrid storms through, a dagger in her hand. Cicero immediately clenches his fists and stands in front of me, as if to shield me from her wrath.

"By Sithis, this ends now!" Astrid barks, pointing her blade at Cicero. "Back away, fool! Whatever you're planning is over!"

I push past Cicero—who seems hurt that I disregarded his effort to protect me—and walk over to Astrid.

"Are you all right?" She asks me. "I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where is the accomplice?" She looks around angrily. "Reveal yourself, traitor!"

"I spoke only to the Night Mother!" Cicero shoots back. "I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me. Oh, no. She spoke only to her!" He looks to me with admiration in his golden eyes. "To the _Listener_."

"What? The Listener?" Astrid repeats. "What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?"

"It's true, it's true!" Cicero laughs, dancing about. "The Night Mother has spoken. The silence has been broken! The Listener has been chosen!"

Astrid shakes her head and Cicero stokes the side of the Night Mother's coffin lovingly, murmuring to her under his breath.

I sit down in a wooden chair and untangle a knot from my hair. It still feels a bit distant... after all, I was just chosen to lead the group I've only been a part of for less than two months.

"When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you'd been discovered." Astrid crouches down beside me. "I feared the worst. Are you all right?"

"It happened quickly," I murmur. "I won't be of much help."

"All right, let's all just take a few deep breaths and calm down." Astrid responds gently. "Now, Cicero said he spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool's ramblings?"

"No." I answer. "It's true. The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I am 'the one.'"

"What?" She raises her eyebrows and stands. "So Cicero _wasn't_ talking to anyone else? Just… the Night Mother's body?" She folds her arms. "And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener… just spoke. Right now… to _you_?" She finished incredulously, with a hint of anger mingling with the surprise.

"That is what I said, yes."

"By Sithis." Astrid breathes. "And… what did she say?"

I think back. "She told me to go to a place called Volunruud and speak with a man named Amaund Motierre."

"Amaund Motierre? I have no idea who that is." Astrid purses her lips. "But Volunruud… that, I have heard of. And I know where it is."

"If I truly am the Listener, I cannot avoid it. I can be there in days."

"Hmm?" Astrid frowns, deep in thought. "No. No!" She exclaims. "Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but you take your orders from _me_. Are we clear on that?"

I stand up. "If the Night Mother issues a command, it is my sworn duty to obey it."

"The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Sanctuary. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed!" Astrid snaps bitterly. "I… I need some time to think about all this. Go see Nazir. Do some work for him. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further." She walks away, but I follow her, and the pattering of footsteps tells me Cicero is trailing me as well.

"This is no time to be reluctant, Astrid!" I maintain. "Now that I am the Listener, we have to respect the decision that the Night Mother made!"

Astrid whirls around and drags me toward her while clenching a fistful of my clothes. "You may be the Listener, but I am still in charge of you! I still command you, and you still obey me before you obey the voices in your head, do you hear me?"

"You've disbanded the Tenets, and now you're disregarding the commands of the Night Mother?" I spit. "How deluded will you become before allowing me to take my place? She trusted _me _with this, I'll remind you. Perhaps there was a good reason for that."

She pushes me against the wall. "I will ignore your insolence… for now. But if you say _anything_ like that again, so help me, I will end you. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly." I manage through clenched teeth. She lets go of me and storms away, muttering aggressively to herself.

I lean against the wall and bury my head in my hands. Am I going mad? Did I truly hear the Night Mother's voice? I had to have heard it… Cicero knew the words I repeated and Astrid knew the place I'm supposed to go.

"Listener?" Cicero stands in the doorway, looking worried. "Are you all right? Can Cicero… help?"

I stare at him blankly for a brief moment before it turns into a warm smile. "I am… surprised. That's all." I answer cordially. "Though I am wondering what this means for me."

"All you have to do is listen. That's what Mother expects. It's why she called you." Cicero says kindly. "And only Mother knows what's going to happen next. Astrid will come to her senses. And if she doesn't, Cicero will take you and Mother and we'll go somewhere away. We'll follow our Tenets and we'll listen to Mother, as it always should be.

I look over at him. I can almost see past the madness in his eyes. I can see hints of reason, understanding, and affection. The latter brings his earlier words back into my mind. _Pretty and unreachable, hmm? Let's see..._ "Did you mean what you said to the Night Mother, Cicero?

His cheeks turn pink. "Of course. You are... all of what I said. And more, dear Listener."

I manage a smile in thanks, and turn my head away.

_Everything happened so quickly..._

Astrid isn't willing to accept the Night Mother's authority, and that's going to cause a rift in the Family. I don't know _what _I want. But as long as I'm supposed to be in charge, I'll make sure everyone respects it. Even Astrid.

I know that Cicero would just as soon break away from Astrid and rebuild the Brotherhood on his own. He would need me for that, though, since he seems to think I'm the answer to everything now. But I have no intentions of leaving just yet. Things need to change around here, and I'm going to make sure they do.

For now, however, I should take some contracts to keep myself from getting too impatient. When I return, I'll make damn sure that Astrid knows who the real mistress of the Sanctuary is.

* * *

_A.N.: This is the last of the rewritten chapters! A new one will be up sometime soon, hopefully, and I'm sure it'll pick up soon. I have to get back into the swing, as it's a bit out of order from here on, but I'm working on that as quickly as I can. As always, thank you all for bearing with me through the changes, and I'll try not to mess with these chapters anymore. If you have any questions or comments, or if you see any errors, let me know in a review or a message._

_\- Gairi_


	6. Creative Licence

The coldest days of winter are dawning on Skyrim. That adds yet another reason why I despise this contract. A bard, supposedly the worst in all the land, is in Morthal, awaiting death. While I would jump at the chance to put a target like this out of his misery, I have no small amount of reservations about travelling to a marshy village in the north.

A passing Khajiit caravan was nice enough to allow me passage up, but they refused to travel directly to the town, as it would have been too far out of their way. I was annoyed at this, and now I'm stuck fighting through knee-high snow in an attempt to find this place. The near-whiteout conditions of this snowstorm have me aimlessly wandering, trying to find a road amidst the stark whiteness.

Morthal comes into sight, not a moment too soon. If I spend another moment in this bitter cold, I'll surely suffer frostbite—if I haven't already.

I only see a few houses and two large buildings that look like the Jarl's home and the inn. I make my way to the latter of the two and step inside, the heat of the fire overwhelming me. I remove my cloak and set it on the back of a chair a short distance from the fire.

The innkeeper, an older Redguard woman, approaches me with a tired, yet genuine smile on her face. "Welcome to the Moorside," she says warmly. "If you need anythin', I'll be 'round. Good to have a customer."

"Thank you." I respond, equally as polite. "May I have a bowl of your lightest soup?"

She frowns. "Lightest?"

"Yes, broth-based." I give her a small smile. "Many Nordic inns serve stew. I'm looking for something that isn't as hearty."

"Oh, somethin' more watery?" She asks. When I nod, she seems to catch my meaning. "I'll fix you up some, hon. Want anythin' to drink with that?"

"A glass of sweet wine would be lovely."

"I'll get that for ya right away." She says, sounding almost joyous to be working. "It's so nice to have a customer again."

As she boils the soup over a fire in the back of the inn, I look around, finding dark places I could hide in or objects I could utilize during this contract. It's not very easy to plan out—nearly every place in this building is open, and if I killed the bard in a conventional manner, it would be very easy to tell who committed the crime. I am, after all, the only other person here.

No, I'll have to do something a bit more… creative.

The innkeeper comes back with my soup and wine, and I eat it slowly. An Orc steps out of a side room—is he the bard I'm looking for?

"Excuse me, innkeep." I raise my hand and she walks over.

"What can I do for ya, hon?"

"There is a bard here, yes?" I inquire. "I prefer to have some music with my meals."

"Oh, that's Lurburk." She sighs, almost reluctant to tell me. "I keep tellin' him his singin' will get his throat cut someday."

_Oh, irony. You always show up at the best of times._

"Oh? I'd have to hear it for myself." I give the innkeeper a pleasant smile.

"You're gonna regret sayin' that." She says with a sad look. "Lurburk!"

He picks his head up from the flagon of mead he's drinking.

_Ugh. Nord swill._

"Our patron here says she wants to hear a song." The innkeeper says, her expression pleading with him not to accept the request.

Unfortunately, he stands up proudly and bows a little at me. "Well, fair maiden, is there any song you favor above all others?"

I barely hold in a series of snickers while the innkeeper rolls her eyes and walks away.

"Do you know 'The Dragonborn Comes?'"

He grins, showing a row of ugly, yellowing teeth. "Of course, my lady! It's a fabled tale to rival the best!"

_Sing already, you buffoon._ I grit my teeth in an attempt to stop myself from groaning aloud.

He clears his throat and says to a nonexistent audience, "This one is a favorite. A legend you all know and love…"

When he unleashes the first note, I can understand why Astrid had to hold a lottery to determine the client for this contract.

Barely able to stomach the sound of his grating voice, I stand up and walk around, looking at my surroundings. It seems that the largest room is the bard's, and it has a few things I can probably use to end his miserable singing. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and the points of the candle holders that make up the fixture look sharp enough to pierce even an Orc's skin.

A few hunting trophies line the walls. I could knock one of those loose. The bard would have to be in perfect position for both of those ideas, however, and if he wasn't fairly lethargic, chances are he could evade anything I attempt to drop on him. I still have the poisons from Muiri's contract; in a measured dose, it may weaken Lurburk enough to be crushed by the light.

I sit down on the bench he had been occupying as he continues his song. He's very expressive, at least. His voice is terrible and his speech is annoying, but… well, I shouldn't make judgments on why over fifteen people would want to kill him. I should get some good money for this contract. That's all I care about.

He's so distracted by his song—and the innkeeper is so distracted trying not to hear it—that neither of them notice it when I pour half a bottle of Lotus Extract into the bard's mead. Hopefully he won't notice a change. That may be wishful thinking on my part, but I think mead is wretched anyway. Hopefully he feels similarly.

I stand up and applaud lightly when he finishes his song with another bow. "Thank you, thank you very much." He grins. "I'm glad you asked for a song." He sits back down in his spot and immediately drinks more of his mead. He makes an odd face at it, and a twinge of worry strikes me, but then he shakes his head a bit and continues drinking.

_Terrible singing, annoying mannerisms, and stupidity. I doubt anyone will mourn him for too long. _I watch him as he finishes his drink and eats a bit of bread. He seems to start feeling the effects of the poison quickly, putting a hand to his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He stands up, stumbling a little, and sways into his room.

I approach the innkeeper, who, while seeming to notice the sick Orc, doesn't pay too much attention to him. "I'll be staying here tonight," I announce, "but before I retire, I'd like something special."

She looks overjoyed. "Great! What sort of thing are ya thinkin', hon?"

"Do you have any vintage wines?"

She frowns and her brow knits in concentration. "Hmm… I think I gave one to the Jarl. I can get the bottle if you really want. She doesn't drink it."

"I don't wish to burden you so much."

"Oh, don't worry, hon." She waves dismissively. "It's no trouble. I'll just be a minute."

She disappears out the front door, and I hear the Orc moan from his room. Taking a deep breath, I go into the room to see him lying on his bed, looking very, very ill. I don't know how I'm going to get him under that chandelier. I wouldn't be able to carry him efficiently; I'm much too small. And he would make a loud fuss, even in his current state.

I have to kill him first.

I decide to use magic, as it leaves very little blood, so I start with a combination of electricity and ice. Ice will negate the burning of his skin, and the shock will hopefully stop his already-weakened heart. He trembles with the sparks, and I focus harder. The innkeeper is surely on her way back here by now, so I let my magic taper off and grab his ankles roughly. I drag him off the bed—his head making a cracking thud on the floor as it lands—and position him under the chandelier.

The door opens and I panic. I send a spike of ice toward the fastener of the chandelier and to my relief—and surprise—the fixture snaps off. The first thing the innkeeper hears when she walks in is the sound of her light crashing to the floor and killing Lurburk the Bard… if he hadn't already been dead.

I scream and run toward her, trying my best to look shocked even though I'm just thankful that my plan worked. I form a gaggle of words and jumble them together as she surveys the damage. She tells me to leave before she calls a guard so I don't have to answer any questions, because surely I'm traumatized enough already from witnessing it.

_If only you knew, _I think to myself as I gather my things and exit the inn. I make my way toward Solitude to get a carriage back and smile to myself.

_This is definitely one to tell the others._

* * *

_A.N.: I was all out of ideas for the murder here, so I'd like to extend thanks to JM38LACK for his help here. He introduced the idea of dropping a chandelier on the bard. Also, thanks to him and Sidnika for reviewing the last chapter._

_The new cover photo is a remarkably accurate depiction of Camille that I created using Doll Divine. I felt like I was playing with technologically advanced Barbies, but I have to say, it's a very handy website for character concepts. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you all think of it (and the chapter, of course!) in a review or message. I respond to all of them as soon as I can. If you see any mistakes that I didn't catch, please point them out to me!_


	7. Someone Old, Someone New

"We need to talk."

Astrid's sudden declaration startles me as I enter the Sanctuary again. She's standing at the bottom of the stairs as if she was waiting for me since I left.

"What's the problem?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Look. Something is happening here." She sighs. "I'm not sure entirely what that something is, but… well, we need to find out."

It takes a great deal of effort not to purse my lips and say "I told you."

"If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we'd be mad to ignore it."

This time, I cannot stop myself. "You see? I told you I'm not crazy, and I told you we should listen. I was right all along."

She scowls. "Yes, you were, and I should have seen that. I'm not going to apologize, Camille, but I know more now than I knew then."

"At least you acknowledged that." I state, crossing my arms. "So now you want me to go?"

"Yes." She nods. "Go to Volunruud. It's a crypt, pretty far to the northeast. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And we'll see where this all leads."

I smile. "Just let me turn in these contracts and I'll set off again."

She nods again and waves me into the main room. I don't mind that I have to leave. At least that means I'm finally getting a foothold in the Brotherhood.

Soon, Astrid will see she isn't the real matron anymore.

"Oooh! Millie, you're back! Back, back, back, from those old contracts!" The jester squeals in his laughter and rushes at me, stumbling when I nimbly evade his embrace. He doesn't falter, however, and his smile never fades. "Oh, do tell Cicero how it was! Did they scream? Shout? Whimper? Did you boil their skin or freeze their blood cold? Oh, _please _do tell!"

I shake my head, feeling a smirk spreading. "Wouldn't you like to know? Oh, if you had seen the way that chandelier crushed the bard…"

He practically vibrates with excitement and bounces on his toes. "Oh, oh, Millie dear! Please please _pleeeeease _tell poor, not-murdering Cicero how delightfully violent your contracts were!"

I turn away and walk toward the dining hall without a word, and though Cicero follows me about like a stranded child searching for his parents, I don't mind it as much as I should. His love of violent murders exceeds even my own.

Perhaps someday I'll let him commit one for me.

I turn in my contracts to Nazir and he congratulates me—after demanding that I make sure I didn't contract Sanguinare Vampiris.

"I drank one of Babette's tonics," I assure him. "Trust me, if I had been infected, I would know."

He only replies with a curt nod, his lips drawn into a slight frown.

"Do you have anything else for me?" I ask, absentmindedly rubbing a bit of dirt off the edge of my sleeve.

"I'm sorry, I don't," he replies. "Check back later, after you've finished this business with Motierre. And don't worry—somebody will always want somebody else to die."

I frown. "I can't decide if that's reassuring or not, Nazir."

He gives me his notorious "figure it out yourself" look and I roll my eyes before leaving the room.

It seems like I can't be home for more than a day without needing to leave, but this time, I can forgive that. Hopefully this Motierre's contract will allow me to take a break sometime soon.

* * *

Volunruud isn't just another Nordic ruin with skeletons and skeevers. It's got traps and bats and somehow I got lost, which led to finding entire halls full of Draugr and a Word of Power that's probably better suited to my sister Dragonborn than me.

Ugh, sister. She's no sister of mine. Why would I think of her as such? As impossible as it is for us to share blood—she, a Bosmer, and I, a Breton—we apparently do. The Graybeards insisted that we work together, and the Blades made it even worse… I hate this place. I hate these legends. If Sidri Nighthollow wants the glory so much, she can have it all.

_Just let me murder strangers in peace._

After clambering back up through the ruin, I finally find the hallway I missed—probably due to stumbling over seven bones and killing two skeletons—and march down the stairs.

This Motierre person is inside a small room, waiting with his bodyguard. He tells me he has no simple contract for me, and drones on about justice and what's best for the Empire and this and that, before finally getting to the point and telling why I'm really here. Amaund Motierre has officially hired the Dark Brotherhood to assassinate the Emperor of Tamriel.

For a few seconds, I'm stunned. Such a thing hasn't been accomplished since Uriel Septim was murdered by the Mythic Dawn cult during the Oblivion Crisis… and now I'm at the cusp of doing it again. It's going to be good – that much, I know. Motierre gives me a letter to deliver to Astrid and a large necklace that looks unique as an up-front payment.

It doesn't seem like the fifteen minutes I spent with Motierre was worth riding halfway across Skyrim for, but it can't be helped. Now I begin the journey back home, to the Sanctuary, and I hate that I'll have to leave yet again when I get there.

I just know Astrid will saddle me with something else anyway.

* * *

When I return to the Sanctuary, Astrid is, to no surprise, standing in her usual place against the wall.

"You're back. Good." She states. "All right, so? Did you meet this Motierre? What did he want?"

"Motierre wants us…" I pause and take a breath, "…to kill the Emperor."

Astrid is dumbfounded for a second, then frowns. "You're joking." She says, and when I shake my head, she exhales and takes a moment for it to sink in.

I hand her the sealed letter and the necklace. "The letter explains it all and the amulet is for expenses." I inform her as she opens the letter.

"By Sithis, you're not joking." She whispers, astounded. "To kill the Emperor… the Dark Brotherhood hasn't done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius." She stands up straight and walks over to the table. "As a matter of fact, no one has dared to assassinate an Emperor of Tamriel since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was two hundred years ago…"

"The Night Mother would never misdirect us." I declare firmly.

"No, she certainly wouldn't." Astrid agrees, thinking hard. "And… for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre's information to you."

"Of course she did. I'm the Listener."

"I don't know exactly what's going on here," she admits finally, "if you're the Listener, or if this is some fluke, or what. But what we now have before us…" She trails off again, and I'm starting to get impatient.

"Will we accept the contract or not?" I demand, struggling to keep my voice level.

Astrid doesn't notice the strain on my patience and laughs. "You're damn right we'll accept it! If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect we haven't seen in centuries. You think I'd abandon an opportunity to lead my Family to glory?" She asks.

She wouldn't want to know my answer.

"But this is all so much to take in." She continues. "I need time to read the letter and figure out where to go from here. And this amulet. Hmmm…"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need to get this amulet appraised. I want to know where it came from, what it's worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. And, there's only one man who can give us what we need—Delvin Mallory. He's a fence, a private operator. Works out of the Ratway, in Riften. Bring Mallory the amulet. Find out everything you can, and sell it if he's willing. He'll offer a letter of credit—that's fine."

_Great_, I think silently to myself. _Of all the places I never wanted to go…_

"Delvin Mallory and the Dark Brotherhood have… history." Astrid remarks, with a low chuckle in the middle of the sentence. "He can be trusted." With that, she motions for me to leave, and I head down into the Sanctuary.

Her laugh had immediately whisked my mind into thoughts I shouldn't have. Maybe Delvin Mallory and Astrid had… history too.

I frown to myself as I contemplate my next move. I really wish I could stay… but then I'd just have to dash off again, and better let the others believe I never came home at all than give them only a fleeting moment before leaving. This contract could mean the return of the Dark Brotherhood, once and for all. It would put the Penitus Occulatus, the Emperor's private security force, in a pit of terror they can't escape from. The others would all understand why I have to go. They must.

So without so much as a word to my other Family members, I turn on my heel and leave the Sanctuary once more.

* * *

As I open the door to the sewer system underneath Riften, I turn away at the smell and grimace. I hate this town. I'm starting to hate Skyrim.

Sidri probably isn't going to be happy to see me. I creep through the rodent-infested tunnels, but I don't get very far before I run into a gap. It's too far to jump, and even if it wasn't, the drawbridge on the other side would block my path. I sigh in annoyance and hop down onto a damp, filthy floor.

Looking around, I spot a gate that blocks a set of stairs. It must be how the thieves get into their den when they don't have the bridge down. I pick the lock on the gate, breaking two picks in the process, and then make my way up the stairs. I have effectively bypassed half of the sewers this way, and I'm glad that I didn't have to wade through traps, and lowlifes.

I open a door into a rather dark room, and I can hear the sounds of merriment from the opposite end. I step through, gently closing the door behind me, and I can make out Sidri's voice.

"…I know, I know! At least I managed to pick his pockets and get my gold back, because otherwise, it would have been a serious waste of a hundred Septims!" She was saying. She's sitting on a table with a redheaded Nord beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders.

_Oh, what have you been up to, little thieving Dragonborn?_

He leans toward her and whispers something in her ear, and she giggles. Not just a laugh; not her usual chuckles or snickers.

_Lovesick fool. _

"Hey!" One of the men seems to notice me, and he shoots up from his chair. "Who're you?"

"Camille? What are you doing?" Sidri storms over to me. "I thought I told you never to come down here!" She hisses, and I roll my eyes.

I smirk slightly. "Sidri, if I lived in a sewer, I doubt I'd be so defensive of it."

"Hey, we keep it clean, and I don't want bloodstains on my floors." She argues, staring me down.

"_Your_ floors?" I repeat with a scoff. "You can't call anything in here 'yours'."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from _you_, you black-hearted—"

A middle-aged Breton stands up and puts his hand on her bony shoulder. "It's fine, Sid." He states calmly. "Let's hear what she wants, eh?"

I smile politely. "Thank you. I'm assuming you're the man I'm looking for?"

He nods. "Prob'ly am. What's your fancy, darlin'?"

"Astrid sent me." I reply, and his features harden.

"Oh. Oh, I see." He glances over at Sidri and motions with his head. She sighs and waves her hand, indicating that I'm allowed to walk around.

I walk straight to the Breton and he waves me over to a table and some chairs in a dark corner. "So, uh… how is Astrid doing these days?"

"Married." I respond shortly, at which Mallory chuckles.

"Never stopped her before." He snickers, before catching my cold, unimpressed stare and clearing his throat. "Tell her to stop by sometime. We can have a drink. Catch up." He drops his smile and folds his hands on the table. "Ah, but business! Of course. What kind of business?"

"What can you tell me about this?" I inquire, producing the amulet Motierre gave me.

"Let's see…" Mallory frowns, looking it over. His eyes gleam with surprise. "Where oh where did you get this? No, don't answer." He adds, putting his hands up. "I don't want to know."

"What is it?"

"This is an amulet of the Emperor's Elder Council." Mallory says, awestruck. "Specially crafted for each member. Worth a small fortune. Ain't somethin' you'd give up lightly." He leans toward me worriedly. "Look, it ain't _my_ business to tell the Dark Brotherhood _its_ business, but if you killed a member of the Elder Council, you'd better believe—"

"Will you buy it?" I interrupt.

"Buy it?" He repeats. "This? An Elder Council amulet?" He leans back and exhales. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes indeed. Wait just one moment…" He trails off, shuffling around in the shelves to the side of us. Eventually, he withdraws a piece of paper and hands it to me. "Here. It's a letter of credit. Usable, by Astrid only, for any service or item I can provide. As per our standard arrangement. You bring that back to your lovely mistress. With my regards." He gives a charming smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Mallory. That should be fine." I reply, standing up and folding the paper away into my satchel.

"Hey." Sidri interrupts my hasty progress toward the door. She barely keeps the disdain from her glare. "I don't want to do this either, but I got a lead on that old guy Delphine wants us to find."

"Joy."

She rolls her red-amber eyes and grits her vampire teeth. "Come on, you bellyacher. Let's just get it over with and then we don't have to deal with each other anymore."

Astrid won't be getting her letter for a while.

* * *

_A.N.: What is this madness? Gairi's posting a chapter? I'm really sorry for the wait. I've been insanely busy and on top of that, I've had terrible writer's block for almost every story I have._

_I don't think I've ever mentioned Sidri Nighthollow before in this story. She's a Wood Elf vampire who's lived for just about six hundred and fifty years now, which is why she **and** Camille are Dragonborn. I've started writing her into a story as well, and I hope it pans out, but I haven't written it for a while now, several months, at least. I wouldn't be posting it until after this story is completed anyway, so it'll be a while yet._

_For reviewing since the last chapter: thank you to J. APPLEGATE, JM38LACK, and Sidnika. Love you guys! If anybody else feels like leaving me a piece of heavenly review, your username automatically gets a spot down here in the thank-you and you'll have made me happy. More thanks to those who have followed and favorited this since last chapter, as seeing those notifications really makes my day. The last few I got kicked me into high gear and I just powered through this chapter... so I admit it may not be my best._


	8. No Rest for the Wicked

"No!"

The refusal rings through the mountain air and I'm almost surprised at the loudness of my own voice.

"Come on, Camille, we have to do this!" Sidri protests. "We can't keep sitting around and taking breaks! The _world _is _ending! _I don't care that you didn't believe the Blades; I don't care that you didn't believe the Graybeards. How can you _not _believe a dragon?"

I glance back at the beast in question, the great dragon Paarthurnax. His massive grey figure is obscured by the whirling snow and the frost on my own breath. "Sidri," I begin, looking back to the Bosmer, "we are standing inches away from thigh-deep snow on the top of the tallest mountain in Skyrim. We just spoke to one of the oldest dragons in Tamriel and beyond. Don't you dare think for a second that I don't believe any of it."

She answers with a glare. "Then why won't you come with me?"

I sigh. "Do you not have a family in your Guild? Aren't they counting on you?"

"You'd send the world to its end before you spent more time away from your merry band of murderers?" She shakes her head. "You're crazy, Camille. This is too important."

"Dammit, Sidri, I'm not chasing a fable for the chance that it can save the world! If this is truly the natural order, we shouldn't be interfering! What will come, will come whether or not we try to stop it."

"Gods, Camille, I can't believe you'd just dismiss this so quickly," Sidri mutters. She shivers in the frigid wind and pulls her fur coat tighter around herself. "It isn't a fable, it's an Elder Scroll. Forget the world for a minute – what if we actually had an Elder Scroll? The source of prophecies since the dawn of time? Can you think of how much gold we'd make if we sold that to the right buyer?"

I narrow my eyes. "Assuming we actually do find this, you'd just sell it? There are so many more uses for it, so much power we can unlock, and you'd send it off to the highest bidder?"

Unbelievably, she laughs. "No! I'm saying we'd do all we could with it and _then _see about selling it. Once we get the power from it, there's no telling how much money we could make." After a pause, she smirks. "But the buyer doesn't have to know it's been read…"

"And you called _me_ crazy."

"Camille, you can't ignore it." She's serious again. I'll never understand how she can change her tone so quickly. "This Elder Scroll is the only thing that's going to stop Alduin. We have to find it and bring it back here before he destroys the world!"

"If you're so intent on drinking in that dragon's every word, then remember this.'Those who try to hasten the end may delay it. Those who work to delay the end may bring it closer.' Don't you see which role we play there?"

Sidri closes her eyes. "I know what he said. But Alduin might be delaying his own work by that logic." She looks at me again, and I swear I can almost see a pleading side to her expression. "Camille. Trust me, please."

Begrudgingly, I relinquish words I never thought I'd say. "I do trust you."

She smiles, and her tired red eyes show signs of relief.

"I trust you enough to stand here with you on the top of this mountain," I continue. "I trust you enough to follow you that Elder Scroll. But Sidri, I swear, I need time. Give me one month."

She purses her lips. "Okay. I can give you that. If the world ends, it's your fault." She nods at me. "But you were right. I have a family in the Guild. Send me a letter when you're ready to go and we'll hunt for it, okay?"

"I will," I promise. "Now… how do we get down from here?"

* * *

Sidri tells me she'll investigate where this Elder Scroll is so I can return to the Sanctuary. I'm ready to spend a night in my own bed – though I can barely call it such since I haven't been in it for almost a month now – and I'm eager to have some time for myself after all this Dragonborn business.

I speak the passphrase to enter the Sanctuary and the door opens after welcoming me back. I step foot inside tentatively, half expecting Astrid to be tearing her hair out in frustration. I slide my cloak down on my shoulders and sigh happily.

_I'm home._

"You took your time, Camille."

"Astrid, please." I turn and give the scowling mistress an uninterested glance. "I had business to attend to. You know I have other matters to attend to."

"I do, but I didn't expect them to be at the expense of this Family." She frowns at me, an expression I believe I see too much of.

"This is yours." I hand her the letter of credit. "And Mr. Mallory sends his regards."

"I knew he would." Astrid smiles. "Now, what did he have to say? Is the amulet authentic?"

"Yes, and specifically made for members of the Elder Council."

"This explains quite a bit. Motierre is hiring the Dark Brotherhood to rise beyond his station." She chuckles. "Delicious."

"What's our next step?"

"We're ready to begin," Astrid responds. "Or more specifically, you're ready to begin. After all, you're the one the Night Mother spoke to. I have a contract lined up, but it'll take about a week for our plan to start, so you'll have a bit of time here, should you want to take it."

"Details?"

She motions me up to her desk. "I hope you have something nice to wear, because you're going to a wedding."

"A wedding?" I repeat, trying to keep my apprehension out of my voice. "This… probably isn't the best task for me."

"Well, it's more like the public reception," Astrid clarifies. "It should be a lovely affair. You'll mingle with the guests, eat some cake… stab the bride. Oh, yes. You've got to kill the bride. At her wedding." She pauses and smirks. "And they say romance is dead," she adds.

"Just tell me what the task is."

"Very well. The target's name is Vittoria Vici. She oversees the East Empire Company's business holdings in Solitude. Her death will cause uproar, which is exactly what we want. The wedding is being held in that city in two weeks, at the temple of the Divines."

I sigh. "And here I thought I'd get to stay here for a while."

"Don't worry," she smiles. "You have a few days here before I want you to go. It should give you plenty of time to get there, scout out the location, and plan your escape route."

"And how difficult do you estimate this to be?"

Astrid shakes her head slowly. "I don't know. She'll be under heavy guard, and it may be difficult for you to remain completely unseen." She explains. "Remember, we want people to notice. Kill Vici while she's addressing her guests, as is the custom, and I can promise a bonus."

"As you wish. May I go?"

She waves me out into the main room again. "Go on, get some food and rest. You deserve it."

Finally, I'm home… but a question rises in my mind, giving me a feeling of sickly anxiety. _For how long?_

As I descend into the Sanctuary, a blur of crimson velvet whooshes past me and I narrow my eyes. "Cicero—"

Before I finish speaking, I'm crushed in tight hug. "Welcome home!" he squeals, releasing me and hopping back into my field of vision. "You've been gone so _long_!"

"Yes, yes, I was busy Shouting Forsworn off a mountain."

He gasps dramatically, but I honestly can't tell if it's true awe or not. "Did they fall and crack? Did you hear them break?" he asks with a devilish grin. "Ooh, please say yes!"

I swallow down the queasiness I feel at the thought of hearing bones smash against rock, but I keep my expression as placid as I can. "It was drowned out by the sound of their fellows dying."

He claps his hands and dances around, following me when I move toward the dining hall.

It's been too long since I ate a meal with the others. Veezara regales me with stories of the last contract he went on – a Nord, hunted by his kin, for betraying the family and romancing one of the opposing house's daughters.

"Truly," Veezara says, his arms raised toward the ceiling, "a tale worthy of a book, with the ultimate twist at the end: the client was the Nord's own lover!" He cackles and pats my shoulder. "Ah, Camille, this life is one of the best we can have. Wouldn't you agree?"

I dab clean the corners of my mouth and fold my fingers on the table. "I think the best contracts are those you can play with. There's nothing better than exploring every option available and customizing every kill you can."

"I couldn't agree more, Camille!" Babette chimes in. "We commit dark deeds every day, but doesn't everyone? This is simply _our _dark deed. Others lie, cheat, steal… if you think about it, we're even straightforward about what we do!" She giggles and bares her teeth – eerily reminiscent of the way Sidri does, only from the mouth of an innocent-looking child. "The other day, someone asked me what I was doing in a city, and I just told them the truth, and they tapped my head and said 'silly child' and then walked away!"

"Oh, Babette, you're wonderfully wicked." Gabriella chuckles softly. "But I doubt many of us would be able to get away with such trickery with our adult bodies. I don't need to scry to see how badly that would go for one of us."

Nazir tents his fingers and stares at me from his seat at the opposite end of the table, saying nothing until I address him.

"Dear Nazir, if something is wrong, do say it." I mirror his posture and narrow my eyes. "That glare does nothing for you."

"A letter arrived in town, addressed to 'The Black Door'. Astrid read it, but she can't make any sense of it." Nazir spins a small envelope across the table. "She told me to give it to you and see if you understood."

I quickly snatch it up and examine the drop of wax that seals it closed. It's a pale, off-white color with the simple imprint of a Septim. _Mysterious, indeed_. I scowl and use the knife from Cicero's plate to open the envelope. The letter is written in a careful and measured hand, with pressure enough to cause impressions in the page.

_Dearest Rain,_

_The iron boots have suspected you for a while. Don't expect them to give up quickly. Oak isn't the hardest wood to break, but neither is it the easiest. When it broke, they searched. Oak is important in center ground. Rare._

_The iron boots are leaving for snow. Center ground has too many trees, homeland, too many mountains. Tried to tell them snow is the same way, but they wouldn't hear it. They want you to freeze away, but you are too strong. Even snow can feel your sting._

_I tell you this now, and hope you know what a risk it is. Stone chips away, Rain. It erodes, due in no small part to you. Soon, you will be the only one left, the only one to continue. I hope you've found your place, Rain, but I fear for you. I stand as the guardian of all, unmoving and constant. But you are wearing me down, and soon I will have nothing left._

_I have left for the snow, and you need to find me. If the iron boots search for us, they will never look where I am, but it is also close to where they dwell. _

_May the wind guide your clouds._

_Fervently,_

_Stone_

I know why Astrid couldn't read this. It was meant for me, and me alone. Though I've always thought Rain was a poor pseudonym – anyone with logic can connect it to Rayne – I know exactly what this coded letter is talking about.

I push back my chair and stand up, reading over the letter once more before promptly throwing it into the fire.

"I have to take care of that. I leave in the morning. You," I said, turning and pointing to Cicero, "are coming with me."

He practically squeals with delight. "Ooh, fun! Where, oh where, do we go?"

I grit my teeth rest my hands on my sides, glaring down at the envelope on the table. "Dragon Bridge. We're going to say hello to the iron boots."

* * *

_A.N.: Wow, this story actually exists! I am so, so sorry to keep all of you waiting for so long. This chapter gave me huge writer's block, and it was only today that I finally figured out how to finish the chapter. Hopefully, the next few chapters will come sooner now that this block is removed. I'm really excited to get back into this, and again, I deeply apologize for how long I've kept you guys waiting. Enjoy the chapter, and please let me know if you see any errors so I can fix them ASAP!  
__Also, huge thanks to Nalledia, thepkrmgc, alemery, Sidnika, JM38LACK, DreamingFire, freewheeler26, K0H, and J. APPLEGATE for reviewing since the last update, and to everyone who has followed/favorited this story despite my really slow updating. You're all really wonderful and if it wasn't for you guys, I may actually have abandoned this._


	9. A Message

Hey, guys, Gairi here. I guess you've all noticed that I haven't updated this story in a while. I have a lot of writer's block, school is coming up soon (and scaring me), and my Mass Effect fanfiction, Shooting Stars, takes up most of my inspiration. It's not like I don't like this story, because that isn't true at all. I absolutely love it. I was reading it over this morning and I said to myself, "I really miss writing this." I do miss it. I miss the characters. But more importantly, I miss the inspiration to write it. The truth is that I wrote this story when I had a lesser knowledge of grammar, formatting, and fanfiction writing in general. You can't just copy the in-game dialogue and then say "perfect! Just a couple original lines and we're good to go!" I learned that halfway through writing Shooting Stars. Writing is a huge trial by fire, because you can't learn unless you practice. A lot. And I try to practice a lot. So much that I've started to dislike my past work.

I'm not going to continue this story, or "Code of the Honorless." But, I have good news for you guys. The characters of Camille and Sidri aren't going away. As a matter of fact, I'm adding a new character and I want to write a new story. How do you feel about modern Alternate Universe fics? I, personally, love them. I was reading "Message Sent," a Dragon Age fanfiction by Aicosu over on Archive of Our Own, and I fell in love with it. I've been writing a modern AU for Oblivion with my friend for a while now, almost a year, and I love modern Tamriel... I love it a little more than normal Tamriel, actually. So I'm taking the "normal" atmosphere of the modern world and combining it with the stories of Camille and Sidri (and a bonus character!) and I'm going to write a modern Skyrim AU for these girls.

I haven't decided on a name yet, but I have the first chapter in the works and I'm going to give myself a word goal of somewhere around a thousand words per chapter. With a goal or a limit, it's so much easier for me to write consistently. It's so much better than staring at a blank page and feeling overwhelmed because I have a whole chapter to write and no idea where to go with it. I can tell myself I only have 1000 words to write, and along the way, I'll find my inspiration if I didn't have it already.

I am really, really sorry to cancel this story. I know a lot of people really liked it and I know the feeling of having a good story get called off. But the truth is that I don't think I can write this anymore, no matter how much I want to. I want it all to be finished and perfect for you guys, but I think I'd just do it halfheartedly and I always want to put my whole heart into what I post. I'm taking a break from Shooting Stars after Part Two of that story is finished, which is going to be very soon. When I do take that break, I'll do my best to work on the modern AU. I do have an original story in the works, though, so uploading may be slow. But I promise: I'm not going to give up on this AU. I love Camille and Sidri far too much to do that. I wouldn't even have written this note to you guys unless I was sure that I had a backup plan for the characters, so trust me when I say I'm not giving up.

Thank you all so much for reading these stories as much as you did, putting up with my two-year-old writing, and leaving me such kind reviews. I'll post a notice here once the new story is up and then I'll decide whether or not to delete the old ones. I know you don't owe me anything, but when that new story goes up I would really appreciate it if you could give it a shot. Maybe you'll like it, even if you don't like modern AUs. All I ask is that you try it out and see if you want to continue reading it. I copied this note onto "Code of the Honorless" as well so everyone can see it. Again, I'm really sorry. But I think it's for the best and I hope you all like the AU.

With warmest regards,

-Gairi


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